"I would say to him, 'Every time my belly grows, your tumour grows'"

At age 31, Rebecca Beckwith's life was full of friends who were getting married and starting families. Her own life couldn't have looked more different.

"I was at a completely different part of the world, where I'm burying my husband and raising my babies on my own," the Brisbane mum, now 43, tells 9Honey.

It was August 2007 when Rebecca's husband Peter died, six years after being diagnosed with a brain tumour. The couple had welcomed their second child, daughter Ella, just seven months earlier.

"That was my second pregnancy not knowing if Peter would be alive at the end of it," Rebecca says.

Peter and Rebecca had met through mutual friends in Sydney in 1998, when Peter was working at the navy base in Woolloomoolloo. They later moved to the NSW south coast and then Melbourne with Peter's navy postings.

Not long after their wedding in August 2001, Peter — then working as a gunnery range instructor at Melbourne's HMAS Cerberus — began experiencing "turns".

Peter was just 29 when he died of a brain tumour. (Supplied)

"We didn't really know what else to call them. He'd go very lightheaded. If he was next to a wall, he'd slink down it until he was sitting on the floor," Rebecca explains.

Her husband would also smack his lips, as if chewing something that wasn't there, and would "tune out" for minutes at a time.

Rebecca urged Peter to see a doctor, and continued sending him back over a six-week period, but he would return with nasal sprays, cough lollies, and amoxicillin, which he was allergic to.

During his next 'turn', a rust-coloured liquid began to run from Peter's nose — "We later found out it was cerebral spinal fluid leaking out" — prompting another return to the doctor. This time, he was referred to a neurologist to undergo an MRI.

"I just knew in my heart of hearts it was something a lot more serious than a chest infection," Rebecca recalls.

Rebecca was driving home from work when Peter called and told her to meet him at the hospital.

"He was standing at the emergency exit door with the doctor and they ushered me in through the rear of the hospital, which was unusual," she recalls.

"When I walked through the reception area heading to the doctor's office, all the reception staff stood up and watched me walk through."

Peter had a tumour the size of apple in his right temple lobe. Two days after his diagnosis he went into hospital for surgery, and then commenced five weeks of radiotherapy.

Peter with William. (Supplied)

It was during these weeks of treatment that Rebecca noticed she'd been skipping periods.

"I thought maybe it was because my body thought, 'S---, I don't need this at the moment'," she says. A home pregnancy test indicated otherwise: the couple were expecting their first child.

Two months before William was born, Peter was transferred to Brisbane to continue treatment.

He was also diagnosed with epilepsy, resulting from the section of the tumour that couldn't be removed with surgery, and struggled with depression as his serotonin levels were "all over the place" on medication.

However, Peter's condition improved, and Rebecca says life "got good again". Her husband was about to get his license and was cleared to return to work in a civilian role, having been medically discharged from the navy.

In 2006, the couple learned they were expecting a second child. Their joy was soon interrupted with bad news: Peter's six-monthly MRI revealed his tumour was growing again. Rebecca was five months pregnant.

As with Rebecca's first pregnancy, they didn't know whether Peter's health would deteriorate before the baby's arrival, so they prepared for the worst.

"We found out [the gender] both times — 'This is definitely a boy, this is definitely a girl, these are the names' — so that Peter could have a say as well," Rebecca explains.

"Peter was in his fifth month of chemo when Ella was born. Thank God he was there."

"That was my second pregnancy not knowing if Peter would be alive at the end of it... thank God he was there." (Supplied)

Four months later, Peter's health took another serious turn. Despite undergoing surgery again, a follow-up scan revealed his tumour had already returned — having changed form to a fast-growing glioblastoma — and that chemotherapy wasn't working.

"Peter said, 'I'm best man at my brother's wedding in September', and [the doctor] shook his head and said, 'You're not going to be at that wedding.'"

That was June 2007; Peter died on 11 August, at 29 years of age.

At 31, Rebecca was facing life as a widow, raising a four-year-old and a seven-month-old on her own, and finding support wasn't easy.

"I lost friendships. People just didn't know how to interact with me any more so they'd stay away," she recalls.

There was one "shining light", however. Peter had told Rebecca about Legacy Australia, a charity supporting families after the injury or death of a spouse or parent during or after their service in the defence force.

Rebecca called the organisation days after Peter's death, and was blown away by the thorough and immediate support provided to her.

"I had my Legatee in my lounge room [the next morning], helping me not fall into a heap," she says.

Legacy offered the family assistance with Peter's funeral costs, and invited them their first 'young families weekend away' three months later.

"It was an eye-opener ... to see these other ladies laughing and having a real crack at life," she recalls.

Rebecca, William and Ella march every ANZAC Day. (Supplied)

"At that stage I was just trying to get through each day. I was still in robot mode, trying to keep these two alive."

Rebecca was particularly touched by how those weekends away, which continued over years, helped William, now 17, cope with his loss.

"William started prep five months after Peter passed away, and on the first day all of the kids were brought into the classroom by their mums and dad," she recalls.

"William burst into tears, saying 'I want my Da'. He really struggled to form friendships ... the first time I'd seen him comfortable with his peers was with the Legacy kids.

"It was really heartwarming to see him being a child among kids his own age, I think he felt he needed to be the man at home, all of four years old."

Along with financial support from the organisation, Rebecca says the Legacy community has been invaluable in helping her, William and Ella, now 12, come to terms with their new normal.

"Legacy's called Australia's largest family, and that really is how it feels," she explains.

"That's probably been the biggest benefit for me and mine — those relationships with people who are in the same boat, and at once stage in their life were living through the worst possible thing that could be dealt.

"There will always be times through the year where we pause and think about Peter, but Legacy's influence on our 'life have just made those memories a little easier."

November 11 marks 100 years of Remembrance Day. You can dedicate a poppy in Legacy's virtual poppy field at www.domore.org.au from as little as $2